


Speak

by goddessofcheese



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:44:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcheese/pseuds/goddessofcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interesting things happen when you're the only two people in the galaxy who can speak a forgotten language. Javik/Shep, one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak

She could speak Prothean.

It was a weird little quirk she’d had ever since the beacon and the cipher. Some people could write in hanar script. Other people read asari. Seri… spoke Prothean.

Right.

But it wasn’t until Javik was onboard the ship that she actually started finding a use for it again. His language being unsupported by the traditional translators, she still heard him once in a while and figured it out in her head as easily as her own home languages. And she wasn’t exactly pleased with the words she was hearing.

”Don’t call the crew  _ksrak_ , Javik.”

All four eyes narrowed in irritation and then realization. “Ah.”

“That’s right.”

He shrugged, uncaring. “What does it matter. They don’t know.”

“But I do, so knock it the hell off.”

He gave her an annoyed grunt and turned away. But she noted that she didn’t ever hear it again.

* * *

 

A nasty firefight, in the dark and in a tight spot. Never fun, even Garrus agrees on that point.

A marauder bullet grazed one of her legs when her shields were down, missing all that convenient armor and shredding through the undersuit like paper. Just a flesh wound, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell, and the word just slipped out.

“ _Zotthan_!” she gasped, staggering for just a moment until a hand caught her and held her upright. Ochre eyes stand out in the dark.

“Not an entirely appropriate word,” he commented.

She pulled herself back up, grinning through the pain. “Oh?”

“Reapers have no mothers to insult.”

Garrus mentioned later that it was never a comforting sight to see your CO laughing in the middle of a shootout.

* * *

 

“You’re an ass.”

“If you are going to insult me, at least make an attempt at being creative.”

“ _Evv savin, boh ki’harmat kem._ ”

“… That was better.”

* * *

 

Liara had sent him a device found saved from the Mars archive. Among all the science and the doomsday devices stored there, apparently at least one Prothean scientist had the forethought to store…

Something else.

“Why am I here for this?” she asked, admittedly annoyed. She was sore, tired, grumpy. Granted she was always grumpy but the sore and tired thing… that was getting, well, tiresome. All she wanted was her bed. But against her better judgement, here she was.

Without a word, he held out the device. A small, engraved orb of silver and chrome, it looked like a random bauble to her. “Put your hand on it,” he instructed.

An oddly soft tone to his voice piqued her interest, and she obeyed. He placed his hand over hers. It was warm, she noticed. Strong, but warm.

And then suddenly Seri’s mind was filled with music.

Her eyes went wide. “Javik…”

He nodded and closed his eyes, so she said no more.

There was silence in the room even as she listened to songs older than mankind; the notes and pitch and tempos flowing through her, heard yet unheard. And then the singing began… And she realized all at once why he’d asked her to listen with him.

“It’s nice to know someone else hears it too, isn’t it.”

“…Yes.”

* * *

 

“Is there a human term for…”

He doesn’t give voice to it, but she knows what he means. Us. We. Them. This… thing that went on between them. The unspoken bond of two soldiers, two survivors, the Avatar and the Butcher. The connection that hadn’t been put into words or sentences, just left in the air to be felt more than heard. The sort of understanding that had somehow led to her quarters tonight, the night after relaying the order that they were heading to Earth.

“Most people would say ‘friends with benefits’.”

It didn’t feel right, and she could see that on his face as much as he could on hers.

“Hm. How blunt.”

“What about in your tongue then?”

“ _Sy’mal_.”

She let the word roll around in her mind and… yes. She liked it.

“Us,” she repeated.

Javik nodded and reached for her. “Us.” 

* * *

 

London swaddled them all in darkness, the lights of the opposing factions being the only things to break through the shadows. And in the middle of it all, two great blue beacons, bright and incessant.

“I’m not sure I know the word for this sort of thing,” she admitted, standing over the edge of a ruined building with him and staring out over the empty city. “I’ve known this feeling longer than I can remember. Waiting for the battle to start but not wanting it to happen yet either. I want to move but I want to stay. I’ve never had a word for it.”

He probably had a word for it, she assumed. Javik always had to comment, whether it was invited or not. But she glanced to him and found him staring out at the sight, as quiet as she was.

Maybe he didn’t have a word for it either.

She folded her fingers into his. That got him to look at her and she felt the tingling spark between flesh that always came with his reading her. 

Anxiety. Determination. Hope. 

She clung to the hope.

“ _Ty’ll jathan za_ ,” Shepard whispered.

The last Prothean nodded and squeezed her hand. “ _Pah ty’ek jass za, sy’mal_.”

The dawn was coming, and she would be there to greet it. But she kept the words close, listening to them like music in her heart.

* * *

 

_I’ll go with you._

_And I with you, love._


End file.
